


Storm

by DaFlangstLairde



Category: Original Work
Genre: Describing, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Storm - Freeform, Storm Chasing, describe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 13:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaFlangstLairde/pseuds/DaFlangstLairde





	Storm

The cold rain drops flogged my soft skin in a weird, itching, prick-like manner. I could feel them trickling down - down my head, my face, my neck, my back, my legs. Could feel how my clothes sagged and stuck to my skin due to the wet - they were basically just a bother at this point, only serving to be heavy and keep the neverending wet right against my skin. It was uncomfortable, and it itched in a way, like hundreds of small cacti pricks all over my body. The cold of the water, the wet, the intensity of the drops’ landings on me as if they wanted to tear through my flesh just like how they tore through everything else. I watched as everything around me got destroyed by these seemingly harmless little water pieces. No, ‘watched’ is too strong of a word. The drops were in my eyes, in my nose, in my ears, everywhere. I couldn’t have watched because of them - they violated, destroyed my senses, just like how they did with everything else they landed upon. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t do anything but feel the vicious drops of water against my sensitive skin.

It was oddly thrilling, actually. In the beginning, it’s all panic, all fear, all pain and discomfort. But the more you stay under the rain, the more that dissolves. Until all that’s left is the thrill, the intimidation. It knocks the breath out of your lungs. Metaphorically of course - that’s the intense wind’s job to do. Barges in, knock the breath out of your lungs instead of filling them up with it. It tries to sweep you off your feet, not realizing that the amazement that being part of such a scene has already done it. You watch as it happens, surrendering because you know well there’s nothing you could do. If you hide, it will hunt you down. If you fight it will have no, absolutely no use. It always reaches you, bites into you mercilessly. How could something so vital to our survival be simultaneously so dangerous, so vicious? We need the water, the rain, to march forwards in our meaningless lives. No matter how harmful it is, no matter how deadly, how prone to utter destruction it is, we need it. We’ve evolved to live alongside it, to use it our ways, to fit it to our needs. It brings whole buildings down, but it also waters the crops we use to feed ourselves with.

I was forced out of my thoughts as somewhere in the distance a thunder rumbled deeply, short after lightning tore through the sky. It made me flinch, knowing the dangers of it, the harm it caused. It was so majestic, held so much potential in it, such power. Such a destructive thing, yet so absolutely breathtaking to witness. The two - thunder and lightning - always came together, dancing the dance of destruction. They stumbled across the sky and the ground, somehow so lumbering yet so graceful. The lightning always took the first step, even if our pathetic eyes didn’t catch the time difference. It ripped through the sky, right into your vision, blinding you for one glorious moment. Afterwards always came the thunder, even if our pathetic ears may not always capture it. Its deep rumble spreads across the air, filling your ears. It makes your heart jump, seeps through your body physically, rattles deep in your bones. I stand there, tembeling out of the sheer intensity of what had just happened, as if death itself had punched me with a bat. After the intense light, everything looks dark.

Or maybe the dark, thick clouds that loomed over the Earth are to blame for that. They were the ones that brought the news that the storm is coming to destroy. They loom over everything dangerously, a quiet predator ready to attack its meek prey. It may be quieter, calmer, than what it brings along with it, but it’s no less dangerous. It’s a quiet warning, that just because of its silence gets overlook by many. Those many regret not listening more carefully when it all hits them.

I never regret it. I face it all with open arms, awaiting. Awaiting for the rain drops to tear through my flesh, awaiting for the wind to knock the breath out of my lungs, awaiting for the lightning to blind me, awaiting for the thunder to deaf my ears and wreck my body. Because in that one moment, all is gone. All except the storm. All is gone, nothing exists apart from the storm and me. There’s only the rush of adrenaline, sheer intensity, raw feeling. It’s calm. No, it’s the exact opposite of calm - everything is so overwhelmed that only the nothing remains. Only the core, the most substantial part. All the walls have been destroyed. It’s the calm of the storm, and the only way to meet it is to face the storm head on.


End file.
